Rattling On...

How are you spelling that?

Do you play Scrabble at all? I have to say I'm a big fan, and we play it at school quite regularly. It's good on a lot of levels, both for improving spelling and vocabularly; for encouraging turn-taking and social interaction; but most of all for having a good laugh. Like this afternoon...

We play 'proper' Scrabble, as in by the rules and quite strictly; with no slang or abbreviations and the words having to appear in out ancient Chambers' dictionary if there is even the hint of dispute.

There were three of us playing, me and two teenage boys. One of the boys had the P and the W and, quite rightly, wanted to maximise the points scoring by banging them on the coloured squares. The other boy was lost in thought.

It came to his turn and he'd been shuffling the seven tiles for a while. I asked him if he needed help (we all help each other, all the while trying to make sure we win) but he said not as he had a good idea. What's that, asked the other boy.

Chronic diarrhoea.

Good luck with that...

Somewhere over the rainbow...

The girls and I had a day out today, eldest is home for just a few precious days from Paris, more of our visit later.

The sat nav took us on another white knuckle ride over all the back roads, which were flooded in the rural areas. It doesn't matter what you put in the programming, the thing just goes its own way.

When the torrential rain stopped and the sun put in an appearance there were lots of rainbows around. I did think, though, that it was meant to be a pot of gold at the end. Not a sheep...

Horsey heaven...

Guess where I went yesterday. The book shop, or store as the sign says, annoyingly. I don't like the way the word store is taking over from shop, a store is where things are stored a shop is where they're sold. I know; pedant.

It was one of those hazy, warm late summer days; the fields are full of drying hay and tractors going about their business. In the field where the cows usually are there are some new inhabitants-

 
Three mares with their foals.

I have always been horse mad. I longed for a horse but riding lessons and trekking filled the gap somewhat.

It wasn't just the riding, I love the grooming, cleaning the tack, mucking out; everything including just the smell of horses and stables in general. I rode until a few years back when a bad accident made me re-evaluate my priorities. Being able to walk was a bit of a list topper. I miss it all still and regularly dream I'm galloping across a field.

My fantasy horse was always black, and big. No ponies or fancy arabians for me. I always wanted to ride the ones that could really get a move on and jump things as well. It's funny how people are worried when riding a bigger horse, it's probably only a foot or so further to fall after all! And it's always the little ones that are jumpy, the sort that bite your bum as you're getting up there.

I thought what a beautiful mix of colours this little lot had produced.

As I was walking back to the book shop, along the side of the road (there are no pavements out there) a car towing a caravan came speeding past, almost clipping me. It was speeding in the true sense, going far too quickly for the type of road and the approaching corner, where many fatal collisions have occurred (and there are signs warning this). The driver didn't even pull out to give me room, very thoughtless and very dangerous, especially in an area where there are many people out walking and rambling.

A friend recently posted on the 'social networking site' that her husband had been subjected to road rage while out cycling. He'd shaken his head at a driver who'd failed to pull out for him. The driver stopped his vehicle and gave abuse then drove off. He then turned the (very large) vehicle round, came back and deliberately ran into the cyclist, knocking him off his bike and causing a lot of injuries and broken bones. The police are appealing for information.

The driver was an older man, with his wife in the passenger seat. What is the world coming to?

Float on...

Thank you for the complimentary comments on the garden, obviously viewed from a dustance it's at its best. You can't see the shambolic weed-ridden undergrowth that way. I think of my garden as I think of my hair: very, very occasionally it looks exactly how I want it to look and wish it would stay exactly like that!

SmallP was asking about the wall, well it's an interesting wall is what it is. Next door is two semi detached houses that used to be one big house originally. It must have been very grand because it had its own coach house- which the neighbours now use as a sort of garden room/utility. My wall is the side wall of it, and you can see it has a chimney so I imagine a coachman used to live in there as well to look after the horses and the tack and such.

All the houses in my bit used to be accessible from a road at the back, which is still there but newer houses were built on the land at the end and they tend to use the little road more. We've blocked up our exit but our other next door neighbours still use theirs. Maybe there was once a coach house for ours as well, in other parts of the town they are still intact. I suppose it was just like having a garage in Victorian times. My garden is quite big for a the period of the house so I imagine it was once filled with outbuildings and such. The wash copper is in the cellar as is the coal store, so it must have been something else. I'd love to be able to travel back in time to see how it was when it was built.

I was blowing bubbles today as the dog is fascinated by them as am I. As a child I used to sit for hours on the back step with a bowl and a bubble pipe (I seem to think it looked like a little clay pipe!) watching them float over the garden. There are photos somewhere, I must dig them out.

Today has been another scorcher after a truly dire and wet one yesterday, I took a hot water bottle to bed I felt so cold. I think this is what They call 'changeable' weather, in other words they have no real idea what we'll be getting.

Good year for the roses...

It really is a good year for the roses here. Mine have gone bonkers and grown really tall, I've had to stake them all up. The heavy rain recently put paid to some lovely blooms but hopefully they'll keep flowering. The smell is divine, it wafts over as we sit in the garden; the rosa mundi (in the pictures) as always hasn't disappointed.

The blog title comes from this song by Elvis Costello. It remimds me of being in the 6th Form and getting the news that a friend had died after a long fight against cancer. She was eighteen and one of the cleverest girls at school, she'd won a place at Oxford and had worked like a demon to get it. While we'd all been partying and cramming, she'd worked steadily.

I suppose I still favour the party and cram method in life; I like a deadline, it makes me work harder and I'll often leave things 'til the last minute. Like the spare room that's been half painted for two years, abandoned when the person who started the project decided he wouldn't be staying.

Visitors since then have slept on a put-me-up bed in the front room as the spare room was such an eyesore. We are due a visit from my daughter's uni friend next week so I've been at it on the decorating front for three days solid now. It's a makeover rather than a scratch job, but I don't think the room had been done since the year dot. I've done the emulsion and the trims (doors, skirting etc.) and just have the sopt cleaning of the carpet to do. Which I'm not looking forward to. It really needs new flooring but for now the old, joined (??) carpet will have to do- with a strategic rug.

It looks so much better already. And it's one of the summer jobs ticked off the list. Two more rooms are on there as well, not sure I'll manage them as one can experience a certain emulsion overload, we'll see. Maybe I'll even get some photos together. Off now to mow the lawns as rain is forecast for tomorrow, so they won't scorch hopefully. I just won't look at the weeds...

Should've gone to...

I went for a walk yesterday, through the allotments and down to the fields that lie beyond them. It was sunny and warm; the lambs were dozing, occasionally flicking an ear.

I'd noticed an older gentleman huffing along behind me and it seemed to me he was keeping a beady eye on me. As I walked back up the path I thought he had a confrontational look so I said 'I's ok, I'm not casing the joint.' 'I don't care what you're doing.' Was his grumpy reply.

Turned out he was near his allotment and was having a little stroll, made more difficult by a recent heart operation and the warm weather. We got to talking about this and that and then he asked me if I'd seen the limers over the wall.

Limers... I thought it was either a farming term I wasn't aware of or something to do with the local stone; limestone, which can be burned to make other products. Maybe it was an awful new industrial unit put there to blight the landscape. I fessed up and said I hadn't seen them.

'Well, I say them' he said, 'but there's only one now. The other died last week.' Curiouser and curiouser. We walked down the lane together discussing the price of potatoes and the recent hard winter. On reaching the gate he pointed into the field where I'd just been watching the sheep 'There's your limer...'

Here is the shipping forecast...

I walked through the park yesterday on the way to meet a friend and, well first of all I must eat my own words regarding the weather. It has been a glorious weekend; sunny and breezy and just lovely.

Anyway, as I passed the 'boating lake', that hasn't seen a rowing boat for maybe twenty five years, lo and behold there are boats scooting around. A group of modellers was out putting their creations through their paces. The schooner was particularly good, unlike my camera- I only took the tiddly one as I wasn't expecting to see anything interesting. But there you go, and I was a Girl Guide so should know better.

The operators were all gentlemen of a certain age, with plenty of people watching. The ducks and swans were impassive and swam alongside the boats, maybe they come every week and I've just not been out early enough?

When I was in the 6th Form and summers seemed to be better, the boys would row us round the lake for what seemed like hours on end. Or we'd go to a small cafe in town and commandeer the back end, drinking endless cups of tea and talking, talking. The lady owner liked us as we always cleared up and took the trays back to the counter.

When the lake was remodelled some years ago a little dock was put in, to make it easier to get into boats, instead of having to half-leap from the shore. But the boats never came back, such a shame.

More recently a slightly hysterical girl decided to end it all by leaping into the lake, followed by a few would-be rescuers. She was mortified to find it's not much more than thigh deep, and had to wade back to the dock and drip all the way back to school. She did, however, get her fifteen minutes of fame and that seemed to do the trick.

I done for it, guv...

The alien has been cut off in his prime and is now on display in the dining room, a little carnival of horror.

Now it's about to flower the rhubarb stalk doesn't look quite so threatening, and is actually very delicately coloured. It's not good for the plant to let it go to seed, though, so best to behead it. If I had the room I think rhubarb left to flower in the garden might be quite impressive. Got to get rid of the butterburr first, you can't even eat that stuff.

Dare I mention the sun is out at the moment? Which means washing on the line, most satisfactory.

The heating has remained off and I've started a meter reading diary. Tragic hobby, I know; I just want to get a grip of the bills and outgoings in general. I keep wondering how the inhabitants of this house coped when it was first built in the late Victorian period.

There's a grate in almost every room but even then I suspect it was on the chilly side. Open fires are lovely but a good half the heat goes straight up the chimney. No wonder ladies wore bonnets, shawls and mittens indoors. And a lap dog would have been handy as well, a furry hot water bottle.

Shock tactics...

Signed in, at last. I don't know if it's been the weather or what, but technology here just hasn't been playing the game. At least the rain stopped today, making way for a little bit of late sunshine and a definite drop in temperatures.

Which is a downer as, after receiving the winter gas bill, I've disabled the central heating. I won't go into the exact and somewhat terrible details of my meltdown upon reading said bill, but it wasn't pretty. Fortunately we are not short on throws hereabouts, and jumpers, scarves... you see where I'm coming from?

Someone at work the other day said 'Oh you're back wearing boots again.' There's no again about it, I have only worn shoes to work once since maybe last September, and I'm not kidding.

I grew up without central heating and to the best of my knowledge it didn't do me any particular harm. Anyway, it's summer. You can stop laughing.

Talking of throws, I'm almost finished crocheting one that was going to be called Spring when I optimistically started it a while ago. I think a better name now would be Next Spring; but it's looking good, just small and good. Crafting has taken a bit of a back seat lately but half term approaches and I have ideas, one of them a dress idea. It's a long time since I sewed anything remotely wearable so it may not ever see the light of day but you never know.

The putative dress will be made from another dress that will be getting the chop. I am, you see, on a bit of an economy drive overall. A bit of making-do and mending will be going on. Not that I don't try to practise economy in any case, but we all get lazy.

The pots outside the back door were from the local DIY store a few weeks ago. They were on a trolley by the checkout, marked down to £2.50 each- fully planted but a little jaded. I took home my fiver's worth, primped it up a bit and, lo! Nature did the rest. Wish I'd bought the other two as well...

The week that was...

 Or the week that wasn't, blogging-wise. One word sums it up really. Ofsted.

In other news: Crow has buggered off with a crowy mate. Good news I suppose, but the garden isn't the same without him. The two of them knock about occasionally and make a lot of noise. I don't know if he'll be back after the Season or if they'll now stay together and do crowy things. 

It has rained a lot, almost all the time in fact. It's starting to feel like a replay of last year. Super.

I have dealt with more clutter issues. As in the charity shop has been the beneficiary of a car-load, the tip of another and a local shop yet another. I'm being ruthless. Which isn't to say there aren't any vintage jelly moulds or storage jars left. There are. Today I'll be tackling the old videos (charity shop says yes, they want them), old paint tins in the cellar and possibly a cupboard full of vintage linens. Keeping it varied helps me from getting overloaded or bored, I find. Butterfly mind.

I broke my good scales. Very, very annoying. I was putting them away when I lost my grip. I have a vintage pair (of course) but I'm not sure how accurate they are. I fell for their looks rather than their usefulness.

And finally, the rhubarb keeps growing. I find the look of it most disturbing. It reminds me of the Alien bursting out of John Hurt in the film.

PS. Anne mentioned that she'd found some 'missing' comments in a spam file where Typepad had helpfully diverted them. I thought I'd check mine just in case, and guess what? So if you've commented and it disappeared it may now have re-appeared. I'll check it regularly now.

Pretty in pink...

My love of hydrangeas has been well documented on this here blog. But my favourite part of the flower is that little bit in the middle.

It starts off as a tiny blob and later on pops open to reveal...

...paraphenalia.

I am posting about pretty flowers to distract me from the havoc the weather has wreaked outside or, to be more precise, the work that has been generated. To be fair loads of people have been stricken with wind-related damage, but that doesn't make me feel any better. And it was hail stoning yesterday. The heating is back on and the fire was lit last night. Summer's coming.

Dodgy hair day...

Freezing fog. Beautiful I suppose, except I have the sort of hair that responds badly to moisture. Accordingly, I like looking at it through the window but dread going out in it.

Funny stuff, hair. you can feel like a million dollars until you glance in a mirror or shop window and notice it's all gone awry. Or you've rubbed you eyes and mascara is smeared everywhere. Or you have bits in your teeth and no-one is kind enough to mention it.

Or, and I speak with a certain amount of authority here, you are at a swanky party in a rather lovely get-up. You nip to use the facilities and sweep back down the stairs to re-join the merrymaking. Where, fortunately, someone is kind and draws your attention to your drawers. And the fact your lovely get-up is tucked into the back of them. Yes, people really do do that.

I decided to brazen it out and guffaw whilst rearranging my finery. It lessened the embarrassment for both of us I feel. Possibly. In any case I was grateful he felt he could mention it instead of leaving me to look like a total tit.

In case you worry this may ever happen to you remember to wear nice pants, it's not only when being run-over that you may need them. And I have been run over as well, but mercifully I wasn't called upon to display my nethers at any point during the process. But that's another story.

Look who is sitting in the tree. It's Mr Crow from my garden. He doesn't have to worry about his coif or his knickers, lucky sod.

Queen for a day...

They know me so well...

Curly wurly...

I'm trying to walk as much as possible, I don't walk enough these days. You get to see much better things as well as hopefully some health benefits. And by health I mean the calorie burning potential of a good stride out.

When the weather gets a bit better I shall be getting the bike out and quite possibly riding it to work. Just got to find a suitable parking spot for it.

On a completely different tack, does anyone know the name of this?

It looks like a little fir tree that's growing as a bush, it's not been cut down from anything, and is maybe a foot high. Looks like it's spreading. Anyway, I want me some of it but need to know what it is first!

Is there or isn't there?

I like the pink ones. Frank the cat likes the white ones. Coco the dog will eat anything.

Is there actually any difference between them other than the obvious one? I feel there must be as I don't think the cat has a preference based on colour.

On pondering this question further I submitted it to the Mighty Google, there to find even a dedicated area to debate the issue, along with umpteen other variations of my query.

If you know the definitive answer then this is the place to share it, thus alleviating me of at least one of my worries. Another being that there is no difference and I just like the girly colour... Along with: are they all made in the same place, is there a standard size (it looks suspiciously like it to me) and did Marlon Brando use them in his cheeks in The Godfather? Try it, they work a treat.